Parlay
by RowanDarkstar
Summary: She knew it would always come down to this, the two of them standing eye to eye in the rubble of fruitless and tragic battle.


**DISCLAIMER:** "Once Upon a Time" and all its wonderful characters belong to ABC and Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, etc.. I borrow them only with love.

**"Parlay"  
**by  
Rowan Darkstar  
Copyright (c) 2012

Mary...Snow. She's neither and both, these days. Two lifetimes in her head have grown her into something more. She grows her hair out a bit as well. Charming likes it. She's become fond of it, too.

Everyone is struggling for firm ground. Joy and fear and confusion all mixed together.

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She knew it would always come down to this, the two of them standing eye to eye in the rubble of fruitless and tragic battle. A parlay between mortal enemies-between family. The venue takes her by surprise. Last time they stood on a windy hilltop amid echoes of discovery and gutwrenching loss. This time, she is lying on top of a down comforter in a sunny bedroom in a small town in Maine.

Regina's hair is a little longer. Her make-up a little brighter. Nearly three decades of Mayor Mills have rubbed off on her, and Snow sees the change. Regina is hurt and terrified and lashing out, as always. But some of the wildness is gone. In her own way, even Regina has matured. Which is the one thing bringing Snow a whisper of hope.

Snow settles onto the simple single pillow with the black and white case, takes a moment to enjoy the cool of the linens against her heated cheek. She studies the fine lines and creases at the corner of Regina's beautiful eyes (and they are beautiful, for all the cold and cruelty they have spread). She watches the flutter of dark lashes.

Regina's been crying. She has not tried to hide it. She rarely does. As Snow stretches out her body, unarmed and open, on the bed beside Regina, the whole scenario is disorienting. In another life, she might be a sister, a daughter, a friend, crawling in beside someone she loves. Offering comfort and affection. In another life, she was. Snow remembers waking in a drafty and shadowy palace from dark and frightening dreams, creeping down the hallway in her nightdress, by feel as much as candlelight, being let past the guards at the Queen's suite doors, because they had been instructed it was always okay. Crawling into bed beside Regina and being welcomed into soft, warm arms. Snow can still feel the sequins of her step-mother's gown against her check, smell the rosewater on Regina's skin. Home and comfort. Love.

This started with the two of them and confessions and whispered secrets. It must end just the same. Snow draws a deep breath. Regina smells of apples. This has to start somewhere.

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"Hi," she says simply.

Regina turns her head and frowns at Snow like her language is something incomprehensible. A flutter of age-old fear dances through Snow's stomach, but she won't leave this place. It has to be the two of them. Regina could kill her with a thought and a wave of her hand, but she hasn't yet. In all these years. This has to mean something.

"What are you doing here?" Regina asks, voice a little deeper, a little scratchier than the voice from Snow's youth. The change was gradual, but all magic comes with a price, and Regina has lived with the darkness in her veins for a long time.

Snow had a dozen things planned to say, a dozen insightful and profound opening pleas. But in this moment, side by side on a soft bed in Storybrooke, she says before thinking, "I had a bad dream."

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"What are you talking about?" Regina's frown deepens into threads of suspicion. Her voice has taken on a defensive crispness. Tensions betray her state of repose.

Snow takes her time with her reply, watching her own fingers as she traces the lines of stitching on Regina's comforter. It takes her a moment to realize the seams draw an ornate "RM," and she remembers staying up late and secretly and meticulously embroidering a pillow as a wedding gift to her father and Regina.

"I dreamt of our realm," she says. "Of the garden behind the palace. Someone was trying to hurt me. There were supposed to be guards everywhere, but they were all gone. I was looking for father and for you. You were supposed to meet me there by your apple tree, take me to the safe house in the woods. But you weren't there. There was something watching me from the trees. I felt exposed and terrified. And it was getting dark. Where were you?"

Regina shoots her something like a glare, but there is confusion in her gaze. "That never happened," she says.

Snow does not reply.

After a moment, she says, "Do you remember Vanessa, our seamstress? Do you remember when she had that horrible fever?"

Snow watches as Regina's throat muscles tighten and ripple. "I wasn't concerned with your father's servants."

"You sent your healer," Snow says. "When I asked you, you sent your healer. He helped her."

Regina released a derisive puff of air through her nostrils. "To keep you quiet."

"You were kind to me. For so long. I didn't know you hated me. Why? Please tell me why?"

"I didn't have much choice." There is something missing from her words.

A small breeze floats through the window, and Snow can smell the magic in the air like memories of days long forgotten. She can feel the slight buzz that wafts off Regina's skin. She knew when that began. She hadn't known in the start what it meant.

"Where is my son?" Regina demands. And the depth of her words hits like a swipe against Snow's skin.

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"Please, let me talk to Regina."

"What?"

"Please. It's been so...so long. Talk to me. Not as the Evil Queen. Not as the evil step-mother. As my real step-mother. As Regina. As you wouldn't all those years."

"Why would I do that? Why should I ever trust you?"

"Because you want a better life. Because you want to be happy. And your way's not working."

"Oh, and _yours_ will?"

"No. Not my way. I'm finding my way just like you. _Your_ way, Regina. The way you started. The way you want with Henry. The way where you...have a family. And like it or not...I'm it. And Emma. And your little boy. He is with Emma. He's fine. So please..._please_...talk to me."

Silence.

"Tell me about Daniel."

Her glare feels like the hot rush off a flare of fire. "You don't deserve to hear about Daniel."

Snow tucks her hands beneath her cheek like a pillow, like a child waiting for a bedtime story. She wonders fleetingly if Henry has done this on this very pillow. "Tell me why you loved him. Tell me why he loved you. Tell me. If not me...tell Henry. Tell Henry you loved Daniel. Tell him your mother broke your heart. Tell him you never want him to feel that. Tell him that's why you protect him."

"You cannot tell me how to be a mother to Henry. He's _my_ son."

"What did he smell like?"

Regina shoves up onto her elbows and stares down at Snow. "What?"

"Daniel. When you remember him. How does he smell?"

There is confusion and a flash of hurt and pain that Snow can feel in her own veins. "Like...pine."

The moment seems frozen. Like icicles. Like a snow globe. Like a spell. Snow stares into Regina's eyes for a real and slow breath, Regina's eyebrows slightly lifted, a haze of fresh tears in her eyes.

Snow speaks slowly and carefully, feeling for the edge of the globe with leather-gloved fingers. "I know...that everyone you wanted to love you has failed you. Everyone but Daniel. And you lost him. And it's _not_ fair. And it is partially my fault, I know, and I am so..._so_...sorry. I failed you, too, even though I never meant to." The whisper escapes her lips before she can think, "I loved you."

"I took your father from you. You will never trust me. You will never love me." Regina is nothing if not scathingly, torturously honest when it is least expected.

Snow gives a bittersweet laugh. "You would think, wouldn't you?"

Regina does not understand. But she wouldn't. She has always believed they are far more different than they actually are.

"You see I forgot, once," Snow says. "I forgot my love for James. And I wanted to kill you. In fact, I tried. Someone saved me. But the truth is...when I lost the true love in my life, I succumbed to the same darkness that has eaten you alive. If I had watched my mother..." The tears catch Snow off guard, and for a moment she can almost smell the stable and the mists and the night on that hill. Her voice is weak as she forces the words, "...tear out James' heart..."

Regina's body seems to reject every syllable spoken. She shifts like there are snakes on her skin, but there are tears in her eyes and she looks almost frightened.

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"Did you ever love her?" Snow asks, before the silence can steal all the air.

"Who?"

"Your mother. Did you ever love her?"

"Once, of course," she says. Regina does that, sometimes. Answers like they are just two people. Like she forgets they are supposed to hate. "She was my mother. But love can turn to hate very quickly."

"And you are afraid that is what will happen with Henry."

Regina whips her head in Snow's direction, a startled look of something like horror on her face. But it fades almost before it began.  
"Tell me this, Regina...when Daniel was still alive, if your mother had stopped using magic, if she had supported your love for Daniel...would you have forgiven her? Would you have still loved her? Taken her back into your life?"

A memory practically plays like a film across Regina's eyes, reflects on her shiny, tousled hair and the pearls in her ears. Snow wants to see the moment so badly it hurts. "There was nothing I wanted more," Regina says simply.

Snow offers a bittersweet smile. "Don't you think that's just how Henry feels? You could give him the happy ending you lost."

Regina shifts, cringes, breathes out through her nose, licks the corner of her mouth. Finally she looks at Snow, slightly lost and painfully young as she says, "I don't know how."

Everything changes.

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"Are you tired?" Snow asks. "I'm so tired."

Regina doesn't reply. But she settles on her back and once more closes her eyes.

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"What did you want to be when you grew up?"

Silence.

Snow tries again. "What do you want to raise Henry to be?"

When Regina speaks, her words are hesitant, but they feel...honest. "He's so...good with people. Compassionate. I thought he might be a doctor or...a teacher."

"A teacher?" Something in Snow's chest twists and tightens and aches. She hates herself. For wanting Regina's approval. Regina's love. She misses her mother.

Regina looks at her, expression unreadable. She looks back at the ceiling.

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Snow wants to snap. She wants to scream at Regina. She wants to be furious and righteous and cruel. Regina has done horrible things.

She has to hold on. She has to hold on.

"You remember love," Snow whispers. "I know you do."

The reply is the Queen's. "Love is weakness."

Snow shakes her head. "No. I don't believe that."

"Why? Because you're head over heels for your precious Charming?"

"No. Because my step-mother told me true love is magic. That it creates happiness. And I still believe her."

"It also creates unfathomable pain. Fear. Anger. Darkness."

"It doesn't have to."

Regina shakes her head with a sneer of disgust. "Still the same spoiled, naive little Princess your father raised you to be."

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The sun has moved in the sky. Music floats through the curtains from somewhere in the distance.

"I need my son back," Regina says.

Snow draws a long, slow breath and turns on her back. She watches the ceiling, the pattern of shadows as the sun moves through the eyelet curtains. She wonders how well Regina knows this pattern. How many nights she has lain awake. "I know," Snow says. "But if you take him by darkness, he will never truly be yours. He needs to come willingly. If you can open yourself again to love...he may just come home." Snow takes a long moment, a lifetime of moments and choices, before she says, "And if you do... I will be the first to tell him...you can be a _wonderful_ mother."

Regina doesn't speak, but her breath quickens, and Snow swears she can feel the other woman shaking.

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"You never stood up for me," Regina says, her tone more curiosity than resentment.

"What?"

"To your father. You say you loved me, but you never stood up for me."

Snow takes this in. Then at last she only nods. "You're right. I didn't."

There should be more, there should be a thousand words more, but this is all she can say.

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There is a chance for the royal family. A chance for them to lead, and the others to follow. The people of Storybrooke are angry, betrayed. The curse has placed memories of a lifetime of democracy in their heads, but in their hearts, Regina is still their queen.

They cry of revenge, but if she asks, they may follow.

If their Princess holds her hand, so much the better.

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The shadows grow.

"I'm sorry you lost your father."

It's not quite a confession, but it is a genuine offering. And maybe it is somewhere to begin.

Snow almost reaches out to take Regina's hand. But in the end she only closes her eyes and thinks of windy nights and sequins.

The air smells of winter.

They are both so tired.

The trees shift, and a sharp ray of afternoon sun slants through and stings Snow's eye.

Regina's fingers lift from the mattress and ripple like the curtains. The drapes move to shelter Snow from the sun.

A heartbeat passes before Snow realizes what may have just happened. Regina does not move, does not look at her.

Maybe it is nothing. Maybe the sun was in Regina's eyes as well. But for a moment, this black and white palace feels a little like home.

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End file.
